Dare to Dream
by adjourn
Summary: Nick loves Gatsby. The feeling is not mutual. Drabbles and one-shots to come.
1. Look, Love

Hi! So, I'v recently become convinced that Nick was actually gay in canon, and totally in love with Gatsby. True or not? Who knows. Anyway, this story is basically just a bunch of drabbles about _The Great Gatsby _that may or may not be related to each other. Warning: they are mostly really short.

Also, it's been like 8 months since I read the book, so sorry if I get some details wrong. Feel free to correct me!

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Great Gatsby_. I actually feel like I'm violating classical literature by writing this. Sorry, Fitzgerald.

This drabble is in an AU where Gatsby and Nick have a relationship while Gatsby is stilling pining for Daisy. Enjoy, and please review!

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It is not so much the way he looks at Daisy than the way he looks at Nick: with a gentle, friendly warmth made insincere by the raw and calculating desperation in his eyes. It reminds Nick of his place in Gatsby's heart — that is, not quite nonexistent, but a mere whisper in comparison to the roaring applause, the standing ovation that Daisy claims. It reminds Nick, the way that Gatsby stares at him so imploringly with his striking blue eyes, that his role is that of a tool, the string that intertwines Daisy and Gatsby's fates, helplessly captured by both even as he is enraptured by one. It reminds Nick that, even as Gatsby's palm traces the curve of his cheek, as Gatsby's smile draws closer to his own, as Gatsby's strong arms embrace him with a steady night, despite the loving stares and fleeting touches and elegant fingers curled in his dark hair, that Nick is not Daisy, and he never will be, no matter the overwhelming power of Gatsby's hope.

It isn't the way he looks at Daisy, but the way he looks at Nick: seeing Daisy, and wishing he was so.

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He loved Nick, truly he did. He loved his dark locks slick and smoothed back, his crisp suits and business ties. He loved his long legs and lean muscles, his sharp jaw line and electric blue eyes. He loved his playful grin, and _oh_, he loved his smile, empty — empty because of him — but so terribly sweet and innocent even when it wasn't meant to be. He loved his neutral, passive attitude, and his fiery, passionate, nigh unbelievable anger. He loved his honesty and devotion to his job. He loved the way that everything that made him _Nick _was so beautifully interlaced, coalesced into a wonderful being that he nearly couldn't believe was real. He loved him ... but he didn't.

He loved _her_.

"Gatsby?" a sleepy murmur disturbed him from his thoughts. He looked to the man laying beside him, and the sunshine illuminating his boyish features, as if God was smiling down upon an angel.

"Good morning, Nick," said he.

But all he saw was silky blonde locks instead of black, plush red lips instead of the soft pink, a round face instead of sharp features, warm chocolate eyes instead of intelligent blue ones.

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_ "Good morning, Daisy," said Gatsby._


	2. A Short, Long Walk

I'm too dramatic?!

I hope you enjoy, and please tell me what you think! Thank you for your support so far :)

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Nick occasionally wonders how his neighbor is doing. The mansion has been very calm in recent times, devoid of the extravagant parties he used to throw on the weekends, in fact utterly silent except for the rustling of the trees in the wind. Nick wonders if his neighbor had simply gotten tired of the constant excitement surrounding his home, of the influx of flashy cars and giggling strangers. At times, Nick's curiosity becomes so tremendous that it is simply ineluctable, and it overflows from his mind, seeping throughout the rest of him with a peculiar intensity that has him making the short walk over to his neighbor's mansion to knock on the door.

This walk always brings him a sense of anticipation, and he wonders if his neighbor will answer the door personally, perhaps invite him in to chat and make plans to ride in his hydroplane, as was the norm back a while. And once Nick has reached the grand steps to the mansion, he takes careful measure to count each one, so as to make sure that he is not dreaming this all up, and that the steps are the same as usual. He is never dreaming, of course. The steps are always 25 exactly: the same age he had been when he met his neighbor. And once Nick has finished counting all 25 steps, he knocks on the magnificent door, so expertly framed in its marble archway, so expertly carved from deep mahogany wood (well, from what Nick can tell. He is certainly no door expert). And once he has finished knocking, he waits. This is the most insufferable part of all, so he trudges through it with a simple routine: He waits for 30 seconds, then knocks again. Next, he waits one minute, then knocks again. Then, he waits five minutes, and knocks again. After that, he waits 10 minutes, and knocks again, 30 minutes, one hour, two hours, then knocks again. At the two hour mark, he decides that his neighbor is simply not home at the moment, and begins the walk back to his own home.

This walk always makes Nick tear up, for a reason he himself cannot discern until he reaches his home and notices how dark it is, how long he had waited in front of that door, how long it has been since he has last seen has neighbor, and how long Gatsby, _oh_! beautiful Gatsby, has been dead.


	3. Rush

Hi again!

Gatsby and Daisy chapter. Mind you, Daisy disgusts me, but Gatsby seems to feel the exact opposite.

Please review/follow/favorite if you enjoy these drabbles so far :) Thank you for your support!

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When he first saw her, there was a _rush_.

It was a rush in all purposes of the term: There was the rush of the party around him, the loud joyous laughter and upbeat music, the swaying and swinging of bodies and the falling glitter, everything and everyone so luxurious, beyond anything his own eyes had seen before.

And then there was the rush of his heart, the dazed feeling coursing through him as though he were back on the boat being called "old sport" for the first time, as though he was just a young boy with nothing to lose and everything to gain — _her_ to gain.

There was that rush in his vision, that blur where he lost sight of everything but her, her and her shimmering hair and sparkling eyes, incredible and mesmerizing and absolutely blinding in her magnificence, far beyond the allure of diamonds and rubies and all the gems in the world.

There was a rush as he moved to greet her, the first lie spilling from his lips before he could help it —"Jay Gatsby is the name, miss" — and from there an endless, effortless current of adoring words and whispers.

Then came the rush of their love, those few glorious nights spent together, those warm afternoons and crisp mornings, and it felt simultaneously like mere seconds and lengthy years, as if they were surrounded by an ethereal veil of pure bliss. He would never forget it: the rush that he felt around her, the hasty need to prove himself, the perpetual feeling of floating in her presence and drowning because of her existence.

She was everything that was beautiful and extravagant, she was luxury and carelessness personified — and she was always in a rush.

And he — he simply could not keep up.


	4. Alive

Happy holidays! More Nick and Gatsby. Please review/follow/favorite! :)

P.S. I guess line break thing isn't working?

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The first time Nick sees Gatsby, he is _alive _— and vibrantly so, overflowing with an impossible energy that simply could not be replicated by mere words, that could only be felt deep inside him, sparking something inside Nick that would never quite fade. And there that something burned, as if etched into his soul in flowery script, the name "Jay Gatsby" and all that came with it.

He was addictive, and his spirit was infectious. When Nick saw him, the world seemed to flow twice as fast, and the sunbeams shone with such vigor that they burned every image of him into Nick's mind. It was astounding, how he brought life to every person he spoke to, to every sky he gazed upon — to Nick, who although young, was not _youthful _until he came along with a charming grin and Chicago on the phone. It was astounding, how his smile shined as bright a thousand cities' lights, and held an even greater amount of life, of dreams, of hope. It was astounding, how he was so _alive_, until —

The last time Nick sees Gatsby, he has been dead for a long time. Dead, and waiting for a phone call that never comes.


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